Family Reunion
by LaVioleBlanche
Summary: Because you demanded it. The sequel to Family Portrait! Hooraaayyyy. M/M, rating may or may not go up. Kind of crossover with Machete.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, you guys win. Another victory for democracy, I guess. Let me know what you think, as always! Sorry the first bit is so short.

~::~

They're strolling through the streets of Los Angeles when Cougar, in the middle of a one-way conversation with Jensen about the merits and faults of Mickey Rourke, suddenly stops dead in his tracks. He has a tendency to disappear without anyone realizing, so it takes a few moments for the other Losers to notice his absence.

"Coug?" Jensen turns to see his friend standing stock-still, hands at his sides, eyes locked on something at the side of the road. One by one, they turn to look at whatever it is that's caught their sniper's attention.

"What is it? All I see is a taco truck." Pooch glances around.

"You, uhh... you want a taco, buddy?" Clay asks slowly. "I think I got a couple bucks in my pocket-"

"No es posible," Cougar breathes.

"What?" Jensen leans in, cupping a hand around his ear. "I didn't catch that."

The Spaniard doesn't bother answering; he takes off at a run, sprinting toward the battered, silver truck that bears a huge painted skull and the words Luz's Tacos.

"What the hell?" Aisha comments as they watch him.

Suddenly Jensen gasps. "Ohh, no _way_. No way in _hell_."

"What? What? Will one of you _please_ explain?" Clay snaps, frustrated and confused.

The hacker doesn't answer, but takes off after his friend.

Pooch throws his hands up in exasperation. "Anybody got any clue what they're freakin' out about?"

"Nope." The colonel scratches the back of his neck. "Maybe that particular cart does _really_ _good_ tacos?"

"I hate mystery. Let's go," Aisha sets off toward the silver trailer, the other following because they have nothing better to do at the moment.

There's a line of people in front of the truck, milling about and having to shout to have their orders heard. Cougar is attempting to weave through the crowd, slinking past people and ducking under arms. Jensen just wades through the masses, using his bulk and height to get by. From the truck comes a hoarse female voice, barking out people's orders and Spanish curses.

Jensen breaks through first, pulling up dead as he locks sights on the woman. She is Hispanic, about fifty, still strikingly beautiful and wearing an eyepatch. She is missing an arm, and her skin is marred by a dozen small scars.

"Holy shit," Jensen says, and she glances at him, frowning. Something moves behind her inside the truck, making the blonde realize that that's not a refrigerator behind her; it's a man. A man with greying black hair and tattoos, chopping cilantro with what looks like a...

"Holy _shit_," he says again, and then Cougar appears at his side, gaping up at the couple in the trailer.

"Are you going to stand there staring, _pendejo_, or are you going to order-" The woman halts mid-sentence as her eye lands on Cougar. Her hand flies to her mouth. "_Carlos_."

The man behind her turns sharply, and Jensen actually takes a step back at the raw intensity in his eyes as he looks at the sniper. The crowd around them has faded, and the curious shouts of the other Losers are just background noise as Cougar lifts his hat, clears his throat, and whispers,

"_Hola, mam__á. Hola, padre_."


	2. Chapter 2

"Carlos!" Luz jumps over the counter (surprisingly agile for her age) and knocks Cougar to the ground in a one-armed hug.

The crowd, seeming to realize that the taco stand is no longer open for business, disperses quickly, leaving only the Losers and the proprietors. The door to the truck flies open and suddenly both Cougar and Luz are hefted into the air by the living tank that is Machete.

"Uhh... what the fuck is going on?" Clay asks, coming up behind Jensen as everyone watches the happy reunion of the deadliest family ever.

Cougar, Luz and Machete are shouting excitedly at each other in rapid-fire Spanish, still tangled together in a bearhug, so the hacker clears his throat and turns to his boss. "Those," he says, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt, "are Cougar's parents. That's Machete, and that's Luz, also known as Shé."

"What?"

"_Machete_?"

"_The_ Shé?"

"Yep, those are pretty much the reactions I had," Jensen beams.

The trio disentangles, teary-eyed, still chattering away, and as one they fall silent and turn to stare at the Losers.

"Oh Jesus, I thought Cougs was scary on his own. It's like some sort of Mexican power amplifier!" Pooch crosses himself, something he hasn't done since Sunday school.

"Who are these losers?" Machete asks, jerking his chin at them.

Jensen giggles nervously.

Cougar explains quickly, speaking more in five minutes than he has in about five months.

Machete turns those intense, deep-set eyes to Clay, who manages not to shrink back. "You're Colonel?" The Mexican legend grunts.

"Yessir. Colonel Franklin Clay. Good to meet you." He makes himself meet Machete's gaze. "Your son's the best damn sniper in the world."

"Of course he is," Luz says with fierce, motherly pride. "How the hell could he not be?"

Aisha chooses this moment to surprise everyone and step forward to grab Luz's hand. "Shé, my name is Aisha. I'm not sure how to..." She pauses, steps back, and snaps off a salute.

Aisha. Saluting.

Everyone is busy gaping at this sure sign of the apocalypse, Luz smiling and returning the gesture, when Machete glances at Jensen, who is practically dancing in place, buzzing with excitement.

"And this... is-?"

"Jensen! Jake Jensen, comms and tech and you guys are so fucking amazing you have no idea I think my head's gonna explode I mean holy shit I had no idea you guys were alive this is the coolest thing ever-"

Cougar ends his lover's rambling, fanboyish monologue by taking his hand, lacing their fingers and meeting his father's eyes. It sums up pretty much everything the hacker was trying to say.

Machete raises an eyebrow, glancing from his son to the American and back. Luz does the same.

"Si," the sniper says plainly.

His parents stare in consideration at the blonde. Luz purses her lips thoughtfully and tilts her head. Machete looks at her, does the same, and before anyone can blink he whips his namesake from under his vest and has it pressed to Jensen's throat.


	3. Chapter 3

The instant the blade makes contact with the hacker's throat, Cougar whips his pistol from its holster and has it pressed against his father's temple.

"Holy shit," Clay mutters, frozen like everyone else.

Machete and his son hold each other's gaze for a long moment while Jensen tries not to breathe. Suddenly, the older man releases the American, throws his head back and lets out a raspy laugh. Cougar smirks and lowers the gun, and his father pulls him into another hug. Luz nods approvingly, looking Jensen over.

"Wow. Trial by fire much?" Pooch arches an eyebrow.

Jensen takes a shaky breath, blue eyes impossibly wide, and the sniper turns to him in concern.

"Jake?"

"DUDE that was awesome I was totally right your parents are the coolest people ever," the blonde blurts, grinning wildly. "So that was like some kind of initiation thing that's amazing oh my god Cougs this is the coolest day ever-"

Once again the smaller man silences his partner, this time clamping a hand around his mouth. "_Me disculpo_. He... he's a fan."

"Well," Luz says with a feral grin. "If he's enough to make you aim a gun at your padre, he's gotta be worth something."

Machete grunts, but it's unclear wether it's a "yes, I agree" grunt or an "I am not satisfied with the worthiness of my son's boyfriend and I will use every opportunity I get to test his worth until I am satisfied because I am motherfucking Machete" grunt.

Jensen hopes it's that first one.


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, reader-peoples! I need your suggestions. Gimme ideas of ways in which Machete can test Jensen! (Preferably not TOO life-threatening; I _did_ toy with the idea of Jensen waking up chained to a bathtub with a hacksaw in one hand and a tape recorder in the other. "I wanna play a game..." :D)

~::~

"Okay!" Jensen slams his empty glass down on the table of the hotel room everyone has retreated to. "So- couple questions that are burning at me: how are you guys still alive, what are you doing here, and how soon can I expect adorably embarrassing baby stories about Cougs?"

Clay snorts into his glass. Cougar glares from under the brim of his hat and bites into a lemon wedge.

"Ohh, I remember the first time you used my old XM-21," Luz coos, tapping her son's nose. "You shot that Black Forest op right through the eye. You were... four? Five?"

The sniper coughs, glances away. "Four."

"So sweet," she hums and downs another shot, ignoring the expressions of the Losers, which range from grudgingly impressed (Aisha) to slightly horrified (Pooch).

Shé passes the bottle and pours a line of salt onto the table. "Well," everyone around her leans in, listening intently. "There we were, middle of the desert, shot to shit and near-dead, bleeding out on the sand," she glances up at them, smiles. "When along comes our own guardian angel, riding out of the desert in a Carmen Ghia. Apparently she saw our boy wandering his way to the military base, followed his trail back and found us."

"Who was it?" Aisha props her head against her hand, clutching her empty glass.

"An ex-assassin and her daughter. They weren't part of the Network, but they recognized us and got us to safety- we were barely alive at that point. Maybe you've heard of her- most people know her as the Bride. Back in the old days, she was Black Mamba."

Clay spits his tequila across the table. "WHAT?"

Luz smirks. "I see someone recognizes the name. She got us fixed up, back to the Network. Her daughter, BB, even joined the Network; runs medicine to our doctor friend Dakota Block, down in Mexico." She looks at her son. "We spent years trying to find you, but the FBI caught on and we had to hide again. And then, all that mess in Bolivia, and we lost all signs of you... We knew you couldn't be dead, but every time we got wind of you, you disappeared again." She smiles. "We taught you well."

"But Black Mamba's dead! Or- or not real? Or... I dunno, retired, dead, not real, just- I thought she was a myth!" The colonel stares wildly.

"Uh, boss." Cougar nudges his commander and points at his parents. "You thought _they_ were a myth."

"Point," Clay admits, his head sinking.

Machete, whose face hasn't changed this entire time, lifts the bottle of tequila and refills Jensen's cup, then his own.

"So," he says as the American drains the shot. "Jensen. You do... what? Computers?"

"Yep," Jensen beams.

"Sitting in back rooms, typing in front of some screen while your team runs around getting shot at." He sneers and knocks the shot back.

"_Padre_," Cougar hisses, but the blonde waves him away and gulps down another drink.

"It's cool, Coug." He takes the bottle and fills Machete's glass, refills his own, drags his finger through the line of salt on the table. "I usually go on-site with the team, bring my laptop. Y'know, hack with one hand, shoot with the other."

The big Hispanic man swallows the shot easily, and Clay wonders vaguely what number that is. "So, you can shoot?"

"Hell yeah."

"And you are good at what you do?" Another set of shots.

"Well, I don't wanna brag, but I'm the best motherfuckin' hacker on the planet." The young man grins crazily.

Machete looks nonplussed until his son leans over and says something in Spanish, not tripping over his words the way everyone else has begun to, largely due to the fact that he knows his limits and began substituting guava juice for tequila about five drinks ago. Machete's eyebrow quirks and he looks up at the hacker.

"You broke into a government satellite?"

"Ahh, good times. Yeah, that was for Pooch's birthday; he wanted to see the season premiere of Ghost Hunters." Jensen winks at his friend, who rolls his eyes. "Of course, a few wires got... accidentally crossed, and I ended up broadcasting Dora the Explorer on every monitor in the Whitehouse..."

Pooch snorts, remembering, as Clay's head finally thuds onto the table.

Machete pours another drink.

**(Three Hours Later...)**

"_Dios_, Jake," Cougar grunts as he hauls the hacker back to their room. "Are you crazy?"

"Crazy for yooouuuuu," the drunk American sing-songs as they weave down the hall. He nestles his head in Cougar's shoulder. "Mmm, you're waaaaarrrrm."

"And you are drunk."

"_Very_ drunk," Jensen agrees.

"Why would you drink that much? You will have the hangover to end all hangovers tomorrow." The sniper turns, pulling his room key from his back pocket.

"It was worth it," the blonde announces. "I held my own with yer dad in a drinkin' contest! 'Sa man-test of manly man-ness."

"You passed out in my lap while he was still drinking."

"Shu'up! I did a good job."

"Yes, you did," the smaller man rubs his companion's back reassuringly and approaches their door.

"Yer parents're awesome," Jensen slurs. "D'you think they're okay wi' me? A-and with you... datin' a white- a ginko?"

"A _gringo_?"

"Sure."

"I'm sure they are."

"I- I know yer mom's okay with me... I hope..." The hacker hiccups. "But I think yer dad might... might try ta kill me or... or maim me or somethin'."

The door opens, and Cougar leads his friend into the room. "Not while I'm around."

"I looove yooouuu, Cooouugs." Jake plants a sloppy kiss on the dark-haired man's neck. "You know that, righ'?"

"_Si_." He lowers the taller man onto the bed. "I know, _amor_. Get some rest."

"'M not tired," Jensen insists, refusing to release his hold on the sniper. His hands creep up and under Cougar's shirt, and he smirks lazily as he nuzzles the tattoo on his lover's chest.

"Jake," Carlos says sternly, trying to detach the clingy hands. "You need to sleep."

"Nooooo." Hot breath, heavy with tequila, ghosts over the Spaniard's lips. "I dun wanna sleep. Sleeping's boring. I wanna do somethin' interesting." He lets his fingers dance over his friend's sharp hipbones. "Something like..." He trails kisses down Cougar's neck, nips at his collarbone, drawing a shuddering breath from the other Loser.

Cursing himself, and knowing he should have stopped drinking earlier than he did, Cougar lets his shirt be yanked up and over his head. He gasps when teeth and tongue find a nipple, drunk but clever hands fumbling with his belt. When one of those hands works its way into his boxers, he moans, falling back onto the bed. "Jake..."

"Mmm, Carrrlos," Jensen purrs, rolling the 'r' and climbing on top of the smaller man.

Cougar pants, hips rolling into the tech's hand helplessly. His eyes flutter shut when he feels the American's lips assault his throat. "Jake... ah... Jake..."

Suddenly, the stroking ceases.

"Jake?" The pinned man raises his head, blinking.

Jensen snores.

"_Joder_."


End file.
